William is three!

At precisely 8:35 a.m. this morning, I sang "Happy Birthday" to William. We were riding in the car on the way to school when the digital clock flipped to that time. That's the time, adjusted for the time zone change, when William was born, exactly three years ago today.

And as I say every year on this date now, I am SO GLAD that it's this year and not 2006. Labor and delivery? Not so very much fun. I didn't tell William that part, though. However, he was charmed to learn that I got to eat waffles for breakfast the morning he was born. He also was interested to learn that David brought me an Oreo cookie milkshake from Carl's Jr (obligatory "Carl's Jr what?" remark inserted here) later that day, too. And again, as I always say, those were the best waffles and the best milkshake I have ever had in my entire life.

So, without further ado, let's have a brief retrospective, shall we?

William David Wyckoff, born at 6:35 a.m. pacific time on April 22, 2006, in Twentyine Palms, California:




















William David Wyckoff at about 8:15 a.m. central time on April 22, 2009 in Nashville, Tennessee:




















In the hospital on April 22, 2006 with David:


















In front of our house in Nashville this morning before school:



















I still can't believe William is three, though. That cool April morning when he finally--finally!--was born took place three years ago.

It's even a little hard for me to believe it's the same person. I know, I know, that's such a cliche. I'm sorry. But it's true. I look at the photos of that tiny little baby and think about how I had no idea who the baby would become. That little seven-pound baby became a 34-pound boy who wore his Halloween wizard costume over his pajamas to watch "SuperWhy" on television this morning. That baby became the person who picked out popsicles in Publix this morning to take to school (he proudly announced to everyone he encountered, "It's my birthday! I'm three!").

And I changed from the person who endured multiple middle-of-the-night feedings with something less than a stoic attitude to a person who endures temper tantrums over snacks I won't let my son eat with something less than a stoic attitude (but I'm working on it). I won't go so far as to say I know exactly what I'm doing now, but I do think I know more than I did three years ago.